


Origins

by Frullama



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Baby Daryl, Backstory, Brotherhood, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Gen, Merle doing his best, Merle is a little spitfire, Postpartum Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 14:16:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5873704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frullama/pseuds/Frullama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At eight years old Merle felt he'd seen all that the world had to offer.  Then his father brings home a new mother for him and his expectations are shattered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Origins

At eight years old Merle felt he'd seen all that the world had to offer. He'd mapped the humid backwoods behind his father's shack for several Tennessee summers and had, proudly, even gone days in the wild on a jar a peanut butter he snapped out of his father's cupboard and the water from the crick.

Merle became an expert at playing the odds when deciding how much school he could skip before he would be missed and there would be a dangerous call home. He would show up just for a couple classes just in time to collect a government subsidized lunch and spin a story about a flu he was getting over, complete with forged doctor's note.  
As far as they knew, Merle was a very sickly child. This was supported by the fact that according to the school nurse he was underweight and often was running a mild fever. He wasn't what anyone would call a handsome boy, but he could be charming when he wanted to be. Merle knew how to capitalize on the pitying looks she gave him and always walked away with a pocket full of butterscotches which he horded jealously.

Merle came to see his father as a panther whose kill he might risk surviving on, and his father came to look upon him with all the affection of a rodent infestation. Merle knew this, and didn't feel bad about a compromise of stealing from him while living separately. He felt free and fierce and out of his father's grasp. That was until one day he tracked down Merle's hideaway, completely turning Merle's sense of security on its head as he hauled him with a harsh hold on his thin arm back to the house.

The shack itself hadn't had a loving touch since before Merle's mother had abandoned them when he was four and was in a state of disrepair. His dad had inherited the shack from his grandparents when they died. Merle had never met them. The porch door screeched open when his father threw the it open, a sound it had never made when Merle always snuck it open when he creeped in. His dad finally dropped his hold once Merle was inside. What he said then made the hair rise on his arms.

"You're living here now."

"No." Merle never did think before he spoke; a part of the reason why he wasn't a good housemate for his violent father. The fist came so fast that Merle couldn't get his arms up before he was caught in the stomach and lifted off his feet with the force of the blow. He landed on his back on the straw porch, cursing through his gritted teeth, tears stinging his eyes.

His father let out a exasperated sigh. "You always force me to do things the hard way. Look," He stepped over to his son's prone body, "You're getting a new mom, and she already knows about you, so you have to stay here and be normal."

"There ain't a cunt alive that would want you." Merle hissed. Ire creased the eldest Dixon's forehead in a flash and a hard kick cracked Merle's ribs. He rolled into the aluminum of the wall with a smack.

"I like to think of myself as reasonable man, but I know you have a hard time respecting me, so I'll make you a deal." He stepped on his son's chest putting a little weight on it. "Do as I say and I won't turn you over to the police."

Merle felt his heart clench at the threat. It wasn't a new one but it had always been the one that scared him the most. Before he started living on his own he had became very acquainted with his father's scumbag associates. He'd listened to their horror stories about the police and the big house for bedtime stories. Learning about how the pigs would as soon frame you to pad their bonuses and how jail was full of monstrous men who would make you their bitch or kill you. About how children would be locked up and left to fend for their selves against these men if they disobeyed their fathers. These stories were substantiated by a dirty cop that had something to do with the eldest Dixon's work in the drug underworld. Merle had seen the badge and gun and everything. He kept his distance from all cops as a rule these days.

Merle glared hatefully up at his father but kept his mouth closed. A lazy smirk curled his face at the submission. "Good boy. Was that so bad? I don't like it when you force me to hurt you." Merle knew it was a lie.

____________________________________

 

It was midnight when Merle pushed open the screen door of his father's house. He toed off his too small mud crusted shoes by the door and dumped his heavy bag on the mat in the corner. He listened carefully for a moment then creeped cautiously to the living room and peeked in. A wide grin split his this thin face when he saw his father asleep on the recliner in front of the TV.

His step-mom was alone.

Merles bare feet padded as quickly as he dared past the living room and up the stairs. He rounded the banister and stumbled gracelessly, nearly tripping when he came to a sudden halt outside the mostly closed door.

"Larken?" Merle whispered harshly, remembering her mentioning that she needed a lot of sleep these days, but being barely able to constrain himself.

"Merle?" Came a soft voice from inside the room. It was all the permission he needed. The door was open in a second and he was by her side like a shot.

Larken Dixon had moved in three months ago, after what could only be described as a shot gun wedding. She had stood at his father's side at the court office, six months pregnant and beaming like she wanted to be there. Her light brown hair hung prettily around her shoulders in waves and her bright blue eyes looked hopefully at her future husband. At the time Merle thought she was probably the singularly most idiotic woman in the universe, but as it turned out... She was the best thing that had ever happened to Merle.

"Good gracious, you're filthy." Was what she admonished, with a crooked smile that creased her eyes. She was right of course; Merle had camouflaged himself with dirt and leaves and had rubbed leaks on his arms and legs to keep bugs away while he was out in the woods. It was summer and the bugs were relentless this time off year. Merle's stomach did a confusing flipping thing as he decided that she wasn't mad at him. He had an impulse he couldn't explain to impress this woman.

"I caught a rabbit." Merle blurted. He got an itch under his skin to run back down stairs so that he had proof to back up his claim, but he didn't want to leave the room yet. He chewed his dirty thumb nail in indecision.

"How clever of you." She praised easily, pulling a red 'kerchief out of her side table, dipping it in her glass of water before taking it to his grimy face. He leaned into the touch.

"I'm a goddamn genius." Merle agreed brightly. Larken's laugh was pure as church bells and made Merle feel warm in a visceral kind of way.

"Well Einstein, it'll be your job to teach your baby brother when he comes along."

Merle thought that was a bad idea. Babies were loud and weak and likely to get eaten by pythons. Merles brown eyes fell on Larken's huge stomach. She kind of looked like a fat python who ate a baby. He considered telling her so, but instead said, "I'd rather teach you."

"You can teach both of us." Larken told him simply.

"He's gonna be a baby." Merle explained in what felt like saintly patience, "Babies can't hunt."

"Maybe you're right, we'll let him grow up a bit first. But let me tell you Merle, this baby is gonna be big 'n strong like you one day. Think of how many rabbits you could catch with his help."

"I guess that would be okay." Merle assented, if only to make Larken happy. Her weird little sideways smile was there still, so he guessed he gave the right answer.

"There you are." She said, pulling back the blackened red cloth. "Now you don't look like nobody loves you." Merle's face burned at the insinuation. "Go to bed little hunter. You have a big day of being a kid tomorrow."

Merle made a big show of rolling his eyes, as he walked to the door. A thought occurred to him. "Ain't you goin' ta bed?"

"I will when Daryl settles down." Larken said, stroking her abdomen tenderly. "He's excited by all this talk of chasin' rabbits around." Merle thought Larken probably said that to make him like his brother better. He supposed it worked a bit.

__________________________________________________

 

Merle decided he would catch as many rabbits as he could until the baby was born so that he could gift the pelts to him when he came. He was proud of this plan because he knew that Larken would like him being nice to her son, and also because he knew that his dad was a cheap bastard that wouldn't spring for anything nice for him. This world was mostly trash, but little Daryl will be brand new and Merle figured he should be allowed the rosey illusion until he was old enough to realize who his father was. Although he'd been lucky enough to have Larken as his mom, so he already had a step up on the crack smokin' wreck what Merle had at any rate.

It didn't hurt either that the rabbit meat was filling and peanut butter was getting old this late in the summer.

The more he thought about it the more he liked the idea of the three of them. Him and Larken sneaking around the woods together with his kid brother, who he imagined would look like him, only smaller. They would have days wandering free away from his dad, hunting and swimming and laying out in the sun. Larken would take care of them and give them hugs and tell them stories, and Merle would probably do most of the hunting, at least until they were good enough.

_____

 

Merle found out his baby brother was born nearly a day after it happened. He came home the day of and found that his step-mom and his dad were gone, and no one bothered letting him know why that was.

The next night when he came home he thought he was alone again when he heard a soft crying from upstairs. Merle quickly kicked off his shoes and sprinted up the stairs two at a time. He threw open his parent's bedroom door in his excitement and the door handle banged against the wall loudly. The sudden noise startled the baby and the fusing turned in to screams. Cursing softly under his breath Merle made his way over to the new used crib in the corner of the room. His eyes caught on the figure curled on the bed. Larken. She was sleeping somehow through the screams with her back to the crib.

Merle ripped his eyes away from her and looked down at the tiny body in the crib. The baby, Daryl, Merle reminded himself, was squished up in red faced misery. He knew that Larken would know what to do better than him, but she was dead to the world, and Merle understood vaguely that having a baby was hard so he had a bit of sympathy. After a moment of indecision Merle picked up the little thing. He weight was lighter than he expected; like a loaf of bread. Daryl curled into Merles chest bonelessly at his will. The crying quieted and his little baby fists flexed into his shirt. "Hey there little brother." Merle said softly, patting his back.

________________

 

Merle thought it was taking Larken a long time to recover. Shouldn't a mother be able to take care of her baby? It was two days later and she had barely left her bed, no matter what cries came from Daryl's crib. Merle had taken upon himself to pull his brother out of the bed and hold him and had even change him the couple of times he had wetted his diaper. He didn't really expect his dad to help much, but something about his role in Daryl's care so far seemed wrong, and honestly he was exhausted by the crying. Daryl was getting tired too, his cries getting softer and softer.

Daryl was nodding off when Merle's dad, in all his usual grace came banging into the house in a rage startling him from his position on the couch with his brother on his chest to his feet.

"Where is your mother?" The eldest Dixon seethed. Daryl whimpered. Merle jerked his head at the ceiling and his dad stomped up the stairs. The noise was enough to send the baby back into peels of sobs.

"No-no little brother, shhh.." Merle hushed nervously petting his back. The eight year old jumped when his dad's voice rang out harshly over the cries and there was a heavy thump of a body hitting the floor. Then there were the sounds of hurried steps on the stairs. Larken appeared around the corner and Merle couldn't name the depth of relief he felt seeing her. She leaned down and offered Daryl a wet cloth. The baby didn't seem to want it at first but after it was in his mouth he latched on and sucked contently. Merle watched this whole exchange in surprise. Merle would never have thought to give Daryl that cloth. It was like Larken really knew Daryl and what he needed. It gave Merle a little hope that Larken would get better and they would all be okay.

Daryl slipped off to sleep.

___________

 

"Why did you have the thing if you weren't going to take care of it?" His dad screamed at her as she cried. A loud crashing noise rang out, frightening the baby and he cried too.  
Things started falling into place for Merle the next morning when he was woken suddenly by his father's yelling in the other bedroom on the top floor. He moved carefully to his door and listened as his father screamed about abortions and divorce.

Larken did not turn out to be the mother Merle expected her to be. Somehow the miracle of creation was so underwhelming for her and the minute the baby left her body she lost all desire to be a mother. He hadn't known it was possible for someone to have such a dramatic change of heart, but it suddenly made sense. He'd never seen... she wouldn't even touch him. She hadn't been healing, she'd just been laying in bed all day staring blankly into space for fun, ignoring the helpless life she created. Merle hated her for it.

"Shut up that baby, shut it up!" A door slammed and he heard heavy feet moving down the stairs.

The shrill cry went quiet so suddenly that Merle's heart stuttered in his chest and he jumped to his feet and ran into his parent's room. Merle was at the crib in a second, shoving Larken with all his strength away from the crib.

Little Daryl was sucking on that same cloth, blue eyes looking at him hazily. Merle heaved a sigh. He thought...

The eight year old looked over at Larken, who was staring at him like she was seeing him for the first time. She gave him an dead eyed smile that said that she knew what Merle thought her capable of. Merle didn't like that at all. He looked down at the helpless baby and was scared for him. Daryl fell asleep.

Merle didn't move from Daryl's side. He thought Larken was different. He'd believed she was something good finally in his life, but she was a predator like his father, only a different type. She was a 'gator, he decided. 'Gator's ate their babies. She knew that he was cornered and only had to bide her time. The disappointment ached in his heart, but he kept his back straight and his eyes dry. She eventually laid back down on the bed and fell asleep.

Merle had to get his brother out of here. He knelt to look the crib over and his barefoot knocked over a bottle that rolled underneath the crib. With a wary glance at the 'gator in his step-mom's body he reached under and pulled the bottle out. It was a half empty bottle of cheap whiskey. He couldn't say he was surprised.

He dropped it on the ratty carpet and turned back to look his unconscious brother over critically. The cloth in his tiny baby fist was soaked. Something clicked in the back on Merle's head and he snatched it.

Merle sniffed it. His eyebrows furrowed at the strong smell of whiskey. "Are you drunk little brother?" He picked up the new born and to felt his stomach drop to feel that his little loaf of bread was noticeably lighter. He sniffed Daryl's weak little breaths that puffed past his parted lips. Merle pressed his ear to Daryl's small chest and listened. Damn.

The flutter of his heart was so slow that he could barely hear it.

Merle stuck his pinky down the baby's throat then quickly pulled it out as the gag reflex was triggered and the baby's small stomach heaved. A little foam came up the side of him mouth, a mix of stomach acid and whiskey. Daryl screwed up his face and let out weak little gasps. "Alright baby brother. Alright." Merle hugged the little body to his chest and moved down the stairs to the kitchen. There were a few dollar store baby bottles that were meant to be used after Daryl was done breast feeding some months after his birth, but Merle knew that the poor kid's well was probably dried up now. He popped off the cap and filled the bottle with tap water. He screwed the nipple back on one-handed then offered it to the baby.

"It's up to you baby. You gotta do the suckin'." Merle muttered rocking him in what he hoped was encouraging. Daryl seemed keen to keep living because he took the nipple into his mouth and sucked at it like it was the best thing he ever tasted. Merle figured that probably wasn't far from the truth.

It occurred to Merle that is was entirely possible that Daryl hadn't eaten since he'd been born. No wonder he was such a miserable baby. They hadn't had milk in the house since Merle's mom left, so he was going to have to find something to replace it or steal money to buy some.

"I've been a shitty brother." Daryl finished the bottle then empty the contents one stomach on Merle's shoulder. Merle sighed and refilled the bottle. "I deserved that."


End file.
